


Getting Good

by chuusei_teki_na_koe



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Caning, Cosplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Humiliation, Sexual Roleplay, The Practice Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuusei_teki_na_koe/pseuds/chuusei_teki_na_koe
Summary: “Motivation isn't enough. Getting good at the violin requires discipline.”—Brett YangAnd by discipline, of course, we mean bondage and discipline. And police cosplay, that helps.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Getting Good

**Author's Note:**

> Here I was working away diligently at Serious Writing with Serious Drama, and then Twoset made that damn practice police video. Do they want me to write this fic? Was that the goal, here? Because that's what you're getting. I apologize for nothing!
> 
> I should probably note that the roleplay gets a little non-conny at one point, but it's all explicitly negotiated within the context of the fic.

Eddy shrugged on the police jacket and pulled the matching hat over his head, then added the dark sunglasses before examining himself in the full-length mirror. This was a lot of money to splurge for kink, but he figured he could justify it by using it in a video or something.

He posed a little, trying to get that sort of cop-swagger vibe. He didn't think he was quite nailing it. When they'd first started out, he'd done the mom and the teacher, and those had been pretty natural, because Eddy was basically just channelling people he actually knew into that authoritative hardass persona. But the cop, he'd only really seen in porn, and that generally wasn't the most well-acted. Well, at the end of the day, the important thing was the attitude of confidence and authority. If he came off a little too much like a violin teacher, that was probably fine. This entire scenario they'd planned was pretty ridiculous in the first place.

When Brett had first asked him to role play, Eddy had had a hard time taking it seriously. Like really, how could you put on a silly outfit and play-act badly and keep a straight face on the whole time? Not to mention that he wasn't by nature that kind of person at all. If anything, Brett was the one who took the lead in most things.

But through the course of doing it, Eddy had slowly figured out how to put on a dominant persona, and he'd discovered that he wasn't just doing it for Brett—he rather liked it himself.

Listening to the other room, he could hear that Brett had stopped practicing. That was the signal that Eddy was supposed to come in.

The door had been left a crack open, so Eddy used that as an opportunity to kick it open with a booted foot. He internally winced at wearing shoes indoors, but it was hard to be intimidating in slippers.

Brett jumped out of the chair where he'd been sitting and whipped the phone he'd clearly been fiddling with around behind his back. He was standing in a sort of awkward, hunched-over way that Eddy knew well—he was definitely trying to hide a boner.

Smothering a grin, Eddy did that sort of swagger-step into the room, hooked one thumb on his belt loop, and nudged down his sunglasses with one finger. “I don't hear practicing.”

“I-I'm sorry, officer,” Brett muttered, head drooping, hands still behind his back. “I was just taking a short break...”

Eddy made a show of looking at his watch. “It's been fifteen whole minutes, and I haven't heard anything.” He walked toward Brett, reached around, and yanked the cell phone out of his hand. “And what's this? What exactly were you doing on your phone?”

Brett protested, trying to get his phone back, but Eddy shoved him back down into the chair and turned on the screen of his phone. The PornHub app was open, and paused on a video that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“ _This_ is what you were doing instead of practicing?” Eddy allowed a hint of disgust to creep into his voice. He looked down at Brett sitting on the chair, hunched over with his hands in his lap.

“Hands behind your back,” Eddy ordered, and with some evident reluctance, Brett acquiesced, revealing he was fully hard in his pants. Eddy immediately raised his boot and brought it down on Brett's crotch, crushing Brett's cock under the sole. Brett whimpered, but didn't fight it.

“Let's take a look at your practice log, shall we?” Eddy swiped over to Brett's scheduling app where he kept track of the time he practiced.

Ostensibly, this was the whole point of the role play. Brett liked to have something keeping him accountable for practice hours, so Eddy arranged a schedule for him, and usually once every two weeks or so, Eddy would come in and check on his schedule and “grade” him on it.

But of course, the practice schedule that Eddy assigned was varying levels of impossible—generally it started at five hours a day, which neither of them had the time for anymore, and worked its way up to “40 hours a day” when Eddy was feeling particularly meme-y, so no matter how much Brett practiced, he was going to get punished for not doing enough.

Of course, that was exactly what he wanted. It was probably a Freudian thing, Eddy figured.

“Two hours. One hour forty. One hour. Two hours, two and a half...” Eddy scrolled on down. “ _Thirty minutes?_ You only practiced thirty minutes last Saturday?”

“I was really busy, I had—”

Eddy cut him off by grinding down with his toe, making Brett moan. “No excuses. You can't even practice a _bare_ _minimum_ of three hours a day? No wonder you sound like shit.”

“Let's hear you do better,” Brett muttered under his breath, and Eddy couldn't help but grin. He loved it when Brett backtalked.

He slapped Brett's face, not too hard, just enough to be humiliating. “I'll write you up for disrespecting an officer,” he said, not sure if that was a real thing, but whatever. “Anything I tell you, your only answer should be _yes, Officer Chen._ You hear me?”

Silence. Eddy slapped him again. “ _You hear me?_ ”

“Yes, Officer Chen...” Brett was sounding rather breathy. He was definitely enjoying this. When Eddy lifted his shoe off his lap, he gasped, hips trying to follow.

“You're under arrest for breaking the terms of your parole,” Eddy said, pulling out the handcuffs to snap one over Brett's wrist, yanking him to his feet to cuff the other hand in front of him as well. “Four hours a day, that was the agreement, and you broke it with your irresponsible behavior.” Holding Brett's cuffed wrists, Eddy leaned in close, doing his best to loom. He saw Brett staring up at him, face flushed, and resisted the momentary urge to just kiss him there and screw the roleplay.

But dragging it out made it better in the end, so Eddy sucked it up, turning around to drag Brett toward the bedroom.

Eddy tossed Brett down on the bed and yanked his arms up, taking one cuff off for a moment to draw the chain through the headboard before cuffing him again, locking him there on his hands and knees. Then without any preamble—Brett had way more patience with this than he did, Eddy always just wanted to break character and fuck—Eddy yanked down Brett's pants and underwear to expose his bare ass. Laying one hand at the small of Brett's back, Eddy pulled a rod out from his belt that was made to look like a police billy club, but was actually quite light and a little flexible, and smacked Brett full across both cheeks.

Brett yelped, immediately burying his face in the bed to smother the next one that came out when Eddy smacked him again.

“This is what you get for not practicing,” Eddy said as he continued the caning, swinging with slow, careful, deliberation to make bright red welts across Brett's ass. Brett muffled his cries into the pillow, hips and erection twitching with each smack, his back sagging into an arch that presented his cheeks so beautifully. “You brought this on yourself. How many times do I have to tell you? Why can't you just do what you're told?”

That probably sounded a little too Mom-ish, in retrospect, but Brett didn't seem to care all that much.

“I'll practice more,” he said, the edge of a sob in his voice. “I promise. I'll practice.”

“Bullshit.” _Smack._ “You won't do it unless I'm watching over you the whole time, keeping you in line. You don't have the discipline to do anything yourself.” _Smack._

“I'll do it, I promise, I promise. Four hours a day, every day.”

“ _Five,_ you little slacker.”

“Five hours, I'll practice five hours, I promise. Please stop, I can't, it hurts—”

Another smack, a particularly hard one, and Brett's back arched, his face lifting off the pillow as he wailed.

“You _dare_ lie to me? You said just the same thing last week, and now look what's happened? Here I am, forced to punish you again. Do you think I want to do this?” _Smack._ “I'm doing this out of love. I'm trying to make you better. You want to get good, don't you?”

Brett was starting to sob now, and Eddy knew that meant he was near his limit. He liked to be pushed to this point, but too much more would be risky. “I want to be good,” Brett mumbled, in that state where he probably wasn't even fully aware of what he was saying. When he was like this, good at violin and just plain _good_ always seemed to get their wires crossed. “Make me good, please make me good.”

Eddy dropped the fake billy club and grabbed Brett's ass with both hands instead, squeezing gently, and Brett full-body shuddered, his cock dripping precum onto the sheets. Just a few strokes would be enough to get him to cum, but Eddy held off just a bit longer, massaging his ass, thumbs stroking around the hole, feeling it was already slicked with lube, stretched and waiting for him. “I will,” he said. “Just do what I say.”

“Anything,” Brett breathed.

Eddy couldn't hold off for another second. Shoving down his pants, he thrust into Brett's hole, making him yelp when Eddy's hips smacked into the raw redness of his cheeks. “Then just lie there and get fucked, you little pervert,” he muttered. He felt his tone was pretty out of character at this point, but he was beyond caring.

Eddy grabbed Brett's cock and squeezed as he fucked Brett's tight hole once, twice, until Brett spasmed around him, cumming immediately, and Eddy leaned over him, wrapping his arms around Brett's chest as he gasped and shook. He always came hard after a scene, and Eddy rode him through it, burying his face in the junction of Brett's neck and shoulder. When Brett finally slumped, exhausted, Eddy caught his hips, following him down to the bed until he finished himself in one final deep thrust before he collapsed right there, still inside him.

After a moment of catching his breath, Eddy reached up to free Brett's wrists from his cuffs, then twined his fingers in Brett's as he kissed at his boyfriend's neck, nibbling his way gently up to his ear, then sticking his tongue in playfully.

“Hey...” Brett protested, but he didn't pull away, so Eddy kept on fucking his ear-hole with his tongue, then proceeded to full-on lick his face, slurping up the tear streaks on his cheeks.

“Mmm, salty like fried chicken. I might just eat you right up.”

“Ugh, stop, this is gross...” Brett laughed, shoving lightly at Eddy's face.

“So licking your face is a hard no, but you're okay with being called useless and stupid? Your kinks confuse me, bro.”

“There's nothing sexy about getting your face licked by a—by a dog.”

“If I'm a dog, that means you like getting fucked by a dog.” Eddy slurped a big, wet line all up his neck and face.

“Aghhh!” Brett rolled over, pulling away from Eddy to wipe his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “You're so gross.” Then he paused a moment, face hidden under his sleeve, and for a moment, Eddy worried he'd gone to far with the scene. It wouldn't be the first time. Brett had a tendency to not tap out—he was just that sort of all-or-nothing personality.

While Eddy was busy worrying, though, Brett grabbed him by the hair and licked a full, sloppy line from his chin up over his eye, making gross slurping sounds while he was at it and slobbering everywhere.

“Aghhh!” Eddy shrieked, rolling off the bed, and Brett laughed, flopping over to hang over the bed and leer at him as Eddy struggled to his feet.

“All right, dog-fucker,” Eddy said, getting up and then yanking Brett's arm out of the bed. “Shower time, and then it's back to practice.”

“Yes, Officer Chen,” Brett replied with a cheeky grin. “Five hours, I promise.”


End file.
